Well, we’ve come to the last 24 hours or so of voting in the 2023 Rock And Roll Hall of Fame “fan vote,” and I thought I’d start expanding my territory, so to speak, into talking more often about things other than politics, by taking a look at this year’s Rock Hall vote – in part because it’s a pretty fascinating class and the decision-making was definitely not easy.
I enjoy Sheryl Crow’s work, and frankly in researching her in more depth for this article I realize I haven’t given her enough credit on one hand, and on the other hand she’s also pretty much everything that “Rock and Roll” shouldn’t be in ways I wasn’t at all aware of (to her credit she wears them well), but in the end the result’s the same.
I was aware going in that she got her start as a very well regarded backup vocalist both live and in-studio (Michael f’n Jackson didn’t duet with amateurs!), but was not aware she’d shipped 50 million albums, nor of quite the range and scope of other artists who have worked with her, so I owe her an apology for that.
I also wasn’t aware of her very Privileged Suburban Middle American Cheerleader Girl™ history (my feelings about which in general principle need no telling to anyone who’s read my more political work), which historically tends to speak poorly to an artist’s authenticity.
In spite of my own biases that really have little to do with her music I don’t mean to put her down. By all accounts she’s an extremely decent and conscious person, clearly a consummate professional, and there’s objectively no question that she is a tremendously skilled and talented singer, musician, and songwriter.
Objectively, Crow is much more deeply appreciated by fellow musicians than by music fans, who will generally be familiar with her radio hits (“All I Wanna Do,” “If It Makes You Happy,” “Every Day Is A Winding Road,” and a pretty decent, mostly note-for-note cover of Bobbie Gentry’s classic “Ode to Billy Joe,” plus maybe her cover of G’n’R’s “Sweet Child O’ Mine” on the soundtrack of Adam Sandler hit “Big Daddy) but not much more. Her distinctive clear, high, smooth tone is as immediately recognizable as McCartney or Ozzy or her former boss Michael J, she puts asses in seats, and she delivers on stage.
In spite of that, though, frankly if it’s time to start inducting early 90’s female rock acts I think Alanis Morissette would be a better choice for authenticity and the personal embrace of the whole “attitude” of rock and roll (which ironically is exactly why she’ll likely never be inducted after walking off last year’s show, citing issues of gender discrimination as the key reason why). I’d love to see L7 get a nod; if you’re really going for the boundary pushers and mold-breakers without trying to get into straight gutter punk or obscure unknowns, Fiona Apple or Sinead O’Connor or P.J. Harvey or Liz Phair are all equally meritorious and were all rising or prominent around the same time. If you want to get serious about it let’s talk Wendy O. Williams.
Plus – and this is where the “music snob” in me really comes out – it’s very relevant to note that every one of the acts I mentioned are to some degree and in classic rock and roll style known for being “difficult.” This generally amounts to people (mostly men) being angry when their expectation of deference and privilege meets a pissed off twenty-four year old woman with tattoos and rage in her eyes who’s absolutely unimpressed with your suit and tie, knows what she wants, is going to get it, and doesn’t care whether you like it…or who decides to use your show to be among the very first people to publicly speak out about sexual abuse by Catholic clergy by ripping up a photo of a much-beloved Pope on live television, creating a huge controversy and effectively ending a very promising career as a pop singer, simply because you believe it’s the morally right thing to do.
THAT, to me, is rock and roll. More Johnny Cash with his middle finger front and center, less Pat Boone covering Little Richard, please and thank you. See Bill Hicks’ remarks on this point for my general feelings on the matter.
Crow on the other hand is just a little too inside baseball, a little too standard-issue, a little too go-along-to-get-along, for me to feel that gritty, rubber-meet-road je nais se quois that, for me, is fundamental to everything that rock and roll really is. Sorry. I really have no dislike for her (in fact I’ve toyed with the idea of covering “If It Makes You Happy” myself, and I’m sure she’d be great fun to just hang and jam with), but in the end I can’t get past the number one filter for me when considering female rock artists in the particular context of their being female, which was best expressed years ago by Crissy Hynde of the Pretenders: “Remember you’re in a rock and roll band. It’s not “fuck me,” it’s “fuck you”!” Crow, in spite of being a fairly rare example of a female musician who wasn’t almost or exclusively marketed as a pair of boobs and a furtive aspiration amongst teenage boys, still feels like she falls just a hair too far on the side of “cool kids table” for the 15 year old raging little know it all who hated “poseurs” in me to put her over for this.
I fully recognize that’s likely exactly the reason she’ll get in (and also that it’s not entirely fair of me), if and when she ever does, but that brings us to the whole “really, a rock and roll hall of fame? what’s next, rock against drugs?” conversation and part of the premise of this article is we’re playing along with the core proposition that a Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame is a thing that should even be, and that as it is it’s more or less a fair representation of who musicians and fans think are the greatest rock artists of all time, and we’re not gonna go there this time because I’m trying to have fun with this…
